"Oh god," he breathed, the words a prayer and a curse in equal measure.

There was no time for questions, no room for the rational part of his mind that screamed at the impossibility of it all. The entity, whatever it was, was real, and it was hunting them.

He scooped Chloe into his arms, ignoring the way her weight, heavier now, lifeless almost, pulled at his already aching muscles. Her head lolled against his chest, her breath shallow, ragged. He couldn’t tell if she was conscious or slipping further into the abyss of shock and blood loss.

He didn’t have time to find out.

“Hold on,” he muttered into her hair, the scent of her blood, metallic and cloying, filling his nostrils. It wasn’t a promise he could keep, not really, but it was all he had to offer in the face of the encroaching darkness.

He ran.

The uneven ground, treacherous in the moonlight, tore at his shoes, his lungs screaming with exertion. Branches lashed at his face, tearing at his clothes, but he didn't slow down. Fear, a primal engine fueled by adrenaline and desperation, powered his every stride.

Behind him, the twin orbs of light, brighter now, closer, moved with an eerie, gliding motion, unhindered by the undergrowth that clawed at him, their glow reflecting in the wide, terrified eyes of unseen creatures that scattered at their approach.

The woods, once familiar, were now a hellscape, the air thick with the stench of decay and the chilling presence of something that felt ancient, something evil, that had been awakened. Whatever Chloe and Sarah had done it must have been something terrible to summon something like that.

And Jon knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that it would not rest until they were both dead, mangled and broken.

He ran and ran while trying to rouse Chloe again and again with breathless words.

Each rasp of his breath, each pounding footfall against the unforgiving terrain, felt like his last. But he somehow kept going. He ran until the trees blurred into streaks of shadow, until his lungs screamed for mercy, until his legs burned with like they had been set on fire.

But he couldn't outrun the fear. It clung to him like a second skin, its icy tendrils wrapped around his heart, squeezing tight with every labored breath.

"Chloe," he gasped, her name a desperate plea against the rising tide of panic. "Chloe, wake up."

He jostled her gently, his arms aching with her weight, her head lolling against his chest with an unnerving stillness. Her skin, clammy beneath his touch, sent a fresh wave of terror through him.

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"Come on, Chloe, stay with me." He pressed his cheek against her temple, willing her to wake, to fight the pull of oblivion that threatened to claim her. "You can't…we can't…"

His words, choked and desperate, dissolved into the night, swallowed by the rustle of leaves and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

He risked a glance over his shoulder, his heart clenching at the sight.

The lights, those baleful, unnatural eyes, were closer now, burning through the darkness with an intensity that seemed to scorch the air itself. He couldn't make out their source, couldn't tell if they belonged to a creature of flesh and blood or something altogether more sinister, but the malevolent intelligence that radiated from them was unmistakable.

They were being hunted like animals.

Despair, cold and sharp, threatened to claw its way into his chest, but he shoved it down, replacing it with a raw, primal determination to survive. He had to get Chloe out of there. Had to find help. Had to…

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his leg. The feeling, explosive and immediate, ripped through Jon's awareness, stealing his breath. He took another step, sending another white-hot spike of agony radiating from his lower leg.

“Oh,” he managed to croak out.

He stumbled, his momentum abruptly halted, Chloe's limp body a deadweight against his chest as he struggled to maintain his balance. Barely managing not to fall and crush Chloe under his weight. Then something in his leg gave fully under the strain and he fell.

"Shit!" The curse, a strangled gasp, escaped his lips as he crashed to the ground, his grip on Chloe loosening as he instinctively clutched at the searing pain in his leg. At the last moment he managed to twist his fall so Chloe would fall on him instead of the other way around.

He went down and the impact crushed the air out of his lungs. His vision swam.

His fingers, scrabbling against his jeans, came away sticky with something warm and wet. Blood. His blood. The metallic scent, sharp and primal, filled his nostrils, a terrifying counterpoint to the fear that pulsed in his veins.

Through the haze of pain, he saw it: a jagged piece of metal, glinting dully in the moonlight, protruding from his lower leg like a macabre ornament. Large and heavy. It was twisted, barbed, resembling something out of a nightmare, something designed to inflict maximum damage. Running with it would shred the muscles in his legs.

Panic, sharp and cold, clawed at the edges of his vision. He’d fallen, tripped, something… He frantically searched for the source of the trap, his gaze darting around the forest floor, searching for another glint of metal, a telltale sign of the danger that lurked beneath the leaves.

But there was nothing.

Just the relentless whisper of the wind through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, and the terrifying knowledge that they were running out of time.

The lights in the distance, those baleful, unblinking eyes, were closer now, their glow illuminating the trees with an unnatural intensity. He could feel their heat, smell the strange, ozone-tinged scent that accompanied their approach.

He had to get up. Had to get Chloe to safety. Had to…

But the pain, a white-hot fire that consumed his leg, made movement impossible. He could feel the blood, warm and slick, oozing down his shin, staining the earth beneath him with a grotesque halo.

He was trapped.